Dear Doug,

Amsterdam, October 12, 2012

It's been quite a while now since we met, I hope you remember.
When we arrived at your place in the forest we had just started our longest trip ever. The land we travelled through was spectacular, but your home at San Jo never left my thoughts. A drowsy bear crossed the long gravel road. The dripping woods, the soft green mossy grass, the tree branches blocking the way.
The campground seemed deserted. We parked the car in an overgrown site with rotten plastic chairs. I walked around, puzzled. There were the weather worn remains of a large, unfinished building. A broken car, a shed, and a cabin with smoke coming out of the chimney. Dark trees crept in on the open space - wall-like, suffocating.
From the steps that led up to the door of your cabin I saw the interior reflecting the haunted outside: an unmade bed in the corner, a wood stove, faded postcards on the beams that supported a sooty ceiling. The small desk at the dirty window was covered with papers and pictures of cougars and bears.

Then you stood behind me, your hands black with dirt, smiling. You seemed happy to have guests so late in the season. You showed us the dark lake that adjoined the campground, and a short cut along a muddy path to the beach, where we found sand dollars in the surf. How have you been? Did you get a chance to work on the hostel again? Or have you really given up that dream? Did you get through the winters all right?

When we left in the morning you made me promise to send you a postcard. I bought one as soon as we got home. It was only then that I found out I had lost your address. The card got lost in a drawer, but I never forgot about you or San Jo. Now it's time to track you down. But no matter what I try, your campground seems to have disappeared from the map. I'm sending this letter, along with the card and some pictures to the Holberg post office. I sure hope to find you this way. Because the forest calls. I long to breathe the damp air and learn to live in the wild.

Yours,

Karianne

Doug answered two weeks later by email. The few sentences he wrote were enough for me to decide to travel to San Josef Bay again and start a new photo project, entitled Doug's Cabin for now. What makes someone turn away from society like that? How does anyone survive in the wilderness? I have always longed to escape, but would I actually be able to do it?

You can buy the photographs below this email until the day I leave: May 28, 2013. They were taken between 2008 and 2010 in the US and Canada, some on Doug's campground. I selected the photographs as a sequence that recalls the atmosphere of Doug's surroundings. The purchase of one or more prints will sponsor the project.
The first results will be shown at the Unseen Photo Fair in Amsterdam in September this year. After a possible follow-up trip in May 2014 I will hold a large exhibition at LhGWR in The Hague, The Netherlands.

The inkjetprints, on Hahnemühle fine art paper, are 20x25 cm, with a small white border. They cost €60 each, this is exluding 6% tax and shipping costs. If you are interested, please mail karianne@kariannebueno.nl

I hope you are willing to help me realize Doug's Cabin in this way.

Best wishes,
Karianne